


To the Middle and Back

by redhead evans (thebabytiger)



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/F, HG/MM Fan Club, HG/MM Fan Club 2014 Holiday "Mishap" Story Challenge
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-12
Updated: 2014-12-12
Packaged: 2018-03-01 05:14:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,382
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2760971
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thebabytiger/pseuds/redhead%20evans
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for the HG/MM Fan Club 2014 Holiday "Mishap" Story Challenge. Hogwarts is organizing a Secret Santa for the students, and Professors are included.</p>
            </blockquote>





	To the Middle and Back

**Author's Note:**

> Rules of the challenge were as follows:  
> Include the following prompts-
> 
> Quotes: Please use at least Three:  
> “Hold on! That doesn’t fit there!”  
> “Please tell me you’re not pregnant.”  
> “You’ve got another thing coming if you think I’m sticking my hand in there.”  
> “Sometimes you get a flash of what you look like to other people.” - Zadie Smith  
> “I don’t hate people. I just feel better when they aren’t around.”  
> “When a good girl goes bad, she dies forever.”  
> “You can get addicted to a certain kind of pain.”  
> “I cannot kiss you, and I want to.”  
> “Be one of us tonight.”  
> “I love what you hide.”  
> "I didn’t need anyone one else, I needed you!”
> 
> Choose at least One:  
> An old skeleton key.  
> An old locket.  
> A creaky staircase and the smell of pine trees.  
> A windy hallway.
> 
> Choose at least One:  
> Your favorite character receives a cursed quill that only allows them to write the truth.  
> Minerva McGonagall finds some parchment that looks to be blank, but is definitely not.  
> An enchanted quill produces some unwanted results.  
> An enchanted ring forces a meeting between the two.
> 
> Choose at least One:  
> Your favorite character experiments with a new potion.  
> One of them receiving an anonymous Christmas gift  
> Anonymous gifts start appearing on one of their hearths.  
> Hogwarts organizes a Secret Santa exchange for the students staying over the holidays.
> 
> Choose at least One:  
> Bittersweet Kisses  
> Stocking  
> Madness  
> Vanilla

It had seemed like a great idea in their weekly staff meeting to suggest that they have a “Secret Santa,” as the muggles called it, gift exchange with the few students remaining in the castle over the holidays. While the numbers weren’t often very large, a still sizeable portion of the student body elected not to go home over the Christmas holiday but the more observational members of the staff (and those inclined to actually care about what they’d observed) had been noticing the slightly morose overall mood of the castle over the holidays. It was often the case that those who did not go home for the holidays did so not out of some great love for the school but more likely out of a great dislike for their living situation. This was especially the case this year, the year after the war, and the castle was still quite full of students whose families had not survived the war, whatever the reason, and who would not be leaving the castle grounds to celebrate.

It had taken the better part of the summer to rebuild the castle to a workable, manageable, and more importantly livable, state after the destruction of the Battle of Hogwarts. Even still, though, there were parts of the castle that were still badly in need of repairs; Minerva didn’t like to think of it in such terms but they were, in a sense, lucky that not all of the previous year’s students would be returning as it was easier to keep the student body contained to only the repaired sections of the castle. The professors continued to work on the other sections as time allowed during the school year, and they had made some headway since the gates had opened to welcome the students on September 1, but they were all kept busy and not much had been done.  


Many of the professors had also stayed over the summer to help with repairs, and some of the students had as well. Most of them had been 7th years at the time of the battle and could, more or less, be considered graduates, but there had been a small smattering of 6th years and the Golden Trio as well, who had been missing throughout their 7th year. Harry and Ron had chosen to take one of the various job offers that had come their way after the war and neither of them were returning for their 8th year to complete their courses, however Hermione had chosen differently. As much as Minerva knew that the younger Gryffindor was more than prepared to sit her NEWTS and pass them with flying colors, she was also somewhat glad that the young woman had elected to repeat her 7th year. She was the only one of her year who was returning to repeat the year, even though Minerva, as Headmistress, had offered up the option to all those who had been at school while Snape had been Headmaster as she felt that their education might have been slightly (if not more than) compromised by the political machinations going on in the castle at the time. Minerva supposed that it was proof of Hermione’s individuality that she was the only member of that class to be returning to finish her education (though she had thought that perhaps a Ravenclaw…).

At some point during the reconstruction efforts, Hermione had become somewhat of a friend and their bond had only grown once the young woman had decided to come back to Hogwarts for her final year. In the back of Minerva’s mind she had always assumed that the Gryffindor would be leaving her at the end of summer, that she would be getting a job somewhere and that Minerva would be going back to teaching in September and that their friendship, which stemmed so obviously from proximity and the sheer volume of time they had spent together while repairing the castle but which had seemed only natural given their prior student/teacher relationship, would fade in intensity. Hermione had been heavily courted by many different people, each wanting to offer her amazingly generous things, but in the end Minerva had been astonished (while also being entirely unsurprised) to find that the brunette had deferred each offer until the end of her schooling. It seemed that their friendship would be allowed to continue, and to flourish.

Of course, Hermione wasn’t like the other students and never had been. That was especially so as the only member of her graduating class and though she had friends in the year below her to spend time with, Minerva had kept her door open to the 8th year and as a result Hermione had been spending almost as much time in the Transfiguration Professor and Headmistress’s office as Minerva herself did, and the pair had taken to curling up in Minerva’s private quarters – Minerva with her grading and Hermione with her schoolwork – after dinner most nights. They had become close over the summer, closer still in the first several weeks of September, and while it was not traditional, nothing about the situation truly was and Minerva had never found the need to question the arrangement.

And then they had become closer still. Minerva had spent months trying to justify her actions, and had been doing so somewhat successfully, still surprised that she was even in this type of situation. That she would be dating a woman so far her junior was no less astonishing as it was that she was dating a current student, despite the fact that said student was an 8th year (and that that designation hadn’t existed until that same year). They had kept the affair quiet, and no one had questioned, as Minerva had not, that Hermione spent much of her time with the now-Headmistress. Minerva had mostly, by that point, forgotten to be paranoid about being discovered.  


However, with so many students staying over the holidays, the couple had been forced to stay separate slightly more than usual, as people would notice if Hermione spent too much time over the holidays doing homework for classes that weren’t in session. She had, for the most part, been forced to stay in more common areas of the castle, or in the Common Room, for the break while Minerva tried to keep up with all of the various tasks that were required of her as Headmistress, all while trying to not-think about Hermione. The Secret Santa exchange had been one of those things.

“I don’t see why not,” she responded when the question was finally posed to her for final approval. “Filius if you’re certain you can find a method to pair people together randomly, I think it would be a welcome addition this holiday season.” She didn’t need to mention that the castle had been getting progressively gloomier as it sunk in that not everyone had a home to go to anymore. 

When he nods his assent, Minerva considers the matter settled and puts it out of her mind. Which is why, two days later, when Filius hands her a slip of parchment, folded down the middle, she has no idea what it is.  


“It’s your Secret Santa!” he squeaks excitedly and Minerva draws a total blank before remembering. “We decided that it would be best for morale to include the professors, so I drew up a list of all remaining members of the faculty, staff, and student body and let the Quill pair them together.”

It’s clear to her that he expects her to know which quill he’s talking about, but embarrassingly enough she doesn’t and she is forced to ask him to clarify that as well. “I did some research,” he informs her, “and determined that the best method to pair people together would be to enchant a quill to do the work for us. It’s a similar, though much less sophisticated, enchantment to the one on the Sorting Hat, although the objective is somewhat different, I’d say.”  


Minerva nods and looks at the paper in her hands. “Thank you Filius,” she says, and the man is already headed down the hallway by the time she has unfolded it to see a very familiar, and very panic inducing, name written in simple script on the page.  


Hermione Granger.

“Filius, wait!” she cries out, bustling down the hallway after him as he turns at the commotion. Minerva is thanking whatever deity will listen that the corridor is mostly empty, most of the students already down in the Great Hall for dinner, as she definitely doesn’t like the idea of her students seeing her, less than composed, scurrying around the corridors in a panic.

“I think there’s been some sort of mistake, Filius,” she says, clutching the paper tightly to her chest as if he will be able to see the words written on it and know just how much they make her heart race in fear. 

“I suppose it’s possible, Minerva.” Filius doesn’t look convinced, but he at least looks like, for her, he will try and make the leap with her.

“I don’t suppose there’s any way I could draw a new name? This result seems more than a little --” she holds her tongue on the word ‘inappropriate’ and stops the sentence altogether when ‘unwanted’ is the next word to come to mind. 

Filius shakes his head. “Everyone else is already matched up,” he informs her solemnly. When her eyes widen, he tries to highlight the good side for her. “I designed this specifically to foster inter-house, inter-year, and even inter-generational bonding amongst the denizens of the castle. I know you may not be especially fond of whomever is on that paper, Minerva, but I think a little bit of goodwill, especially from an uncommon source, will go a long way this year.”

“Inter-generational… Uncommon… Yes,” Minerva parrots, four seconds away from losing her composure entirely. “Well thank you for all your hard work Filius. I quite understand.”

“Will I see you at dinner Minerva?” Filius asks when she has turned away from him and seems to be heading in the opposite direction of the Great Hall. 

“I just realized that I have one more task to finish up before I’ll head down, but thank you Filius. I’ll see you in a short while, if you’re still down there.” He seems to buy it and turns away, allowing Minerva to resume her panic. What on earth did you get as a Secret Santa gift for your decades-younger student who is also your clandestine lover? And for that matter, what on earth was she going to get Hermione for Christmas as a normal gift?

///

She never did make it down to dinner, and she had waved off Hermione’s concern later that night, curled up on the love seat in front of the fire, citing a large workload and dinner in her office. Hermione had seemed to buy it and had not appeared to notice that Minerva felt increasingly jumpy as the topic changed to Hermione’s Secret Santa assignment. The 8th year Gryffindor had been blessed, in a way that Minerva had not, with an easy assignment; she had been paired with a first year Hufflepuff and it was not going to be entirely difficult for her to come up with some simple, but useful, gift for the young man. 

The next morning found Minerva perched in cat-form on the railing of one of the courtyard corridors, brisk December winds ruffling her fur. She knew that Hermione had been planning a library study session with Ginny and she was hoping to wait for her, unnoticed, along the route back down to the Great Hall. If she was lucky, the younger woman would be discussing something, anything, with her friend that could lead to a proper Secret Santa gift idea; many of the things that had come to mind after a night of tossing and turning had been good, but too intimate for a public gift. Minerva was nearly 100% certain that neither of them was wanting to come out to friends, family, and the entire Wizarding world until after Hermione had graduated. It would cause enough of a wave even then without adding to the splash.

Keen cat eyes caught sight of Hermione exiting the classroom, laughing with Ginny over something. The wind whistled through the corridor, causing robes to flap and parchment to rustle, but Minerva tried to ignore it, hunkering down close to the stone in an attempt to stay more or less out of sight and keep warm.

“I don’t even know what to get mine!” Ginny was bemoaning, gesturing dramatically with her arms. “I mean what exactly do boys want when they’re 5th years?”

Hermione’s peal of laughter cuts through the corridor as, only a second later, Ginny realized her mistake. “I am definitely not getting him that, thanks very much Hermione!” It’s clear from where Minerva is that Hermione is making some sort of face at the red-haired Chaser, though it’s not clear what it is, and the bushy-haired brunette’s impertinence forces her to duck to avoid the hand that flies playfully in her direction. “It’s not fair that yours is so easy.”

“I’m sure yours would be plenty easy if you were willing to try.” Hermione barely managed to force the words out through the laughter, dodging once more out of Ginny’s reach.

“Who are you and what have you done with my friend Hermione Granger?” The 6th year peers curiously up at her friend, an expression of utter wonderment on her face. “Since when do you make these kinds of raunchy jokes?”

“Well, I… since always, Ginny,” Hermione tries, but it’s convincing to neither of them. 

“No, this is new.” Ginny sounds absolutely certain. “Someone and their foul mouth is rubbing off on you.” Minerva is suddenly grateful that cats can’t blush as Hermione goes suddenly stiff with shock. The Headmistress can practically picture the violent blush that must be painting its way across the younger woman’s features.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about Ginny.”

“You do. You’re seeing someone, aren’t you?”

“And when would I find the time?” Hermione wonders aloud, mockingly, although Minerva knows that Hermione has quite clearly found the time. “Especially we are about to be late for dinner and we’ve spent all day in the library working on schoolwork. It’s not like I’m swimming in time to go snog anyone in a broom closet.” Feline ears perk at the idea, flattening further against the stone as a gust of wind blows through the corridor. Hermione and Ginny are getting further and further away though, and she tries to decide whether she should move positions and follow them until they perhaps discuss something useful or if she should stay where she is with no fear of discovery.

“If your Secret Santa was going to get you something,” Ginny says, whatever response to Hermione’s earlier comment having been lost to the wind, “what would it be? More free time so you can get that broom closet snog?”

“Do you know who it is?” Hermione demands quickly, obviously excited at the idea, but her energy subsides as Ginny shakes her head. 

“Well in that case, I really don’t know what I’d like,” Hermione says, clearly thinking it over. “Maybe getting a—“ the wind picks up suddenly, and Minerva’s claws instinctively dig further into the stone as another gust of wind howls its way down the hallway. Ear flat against her head, Minerva scrambles from her perch and into an empty classroom nearby, though doing so sends her down the corridor in the opposite direction as Hermione and Ginny are heading. By the time she is safely sheltered from the wind and the noise has subsided, the pair of Gryffindors are too far for her to make out the words. Hissing in frustration, Minerva changes back with barely a thought. Surely there was a better way to think of a good gift than to eavesdrop anyway, she tells herself dismissively as she ducks back out of the classroom and hurries down the hall, taking care to choose a slightly longer, circuitous path towards the Great Hall so as not to arrive too closely behind Hermione and Ginny.

“Hold on! That doesn’t fit there!” Breaks into her thoughts as she nears the Great Hall and an instant later she’s almost hit in the face with a large evergreen. She dodges on instinct as her brain registers the voice as belonging to Filius. “Bring it back this way, Hagrid,” the Charms professor instructs and the tree retracts itself from the corridor in front of her, enabling her to duck out behind it and into the small courtyard. The wind isn’t as pronounced as it had been closer to the library; this courtyard is located closer to the center of the castle itself and is sheltered on all four sides by the castle walls around it. “Oh hello Minerva,” Fillius says, as she pops out from behind the tree.

“Fillius, Hagrid,” she greets politely, nodding to her Deputy and observing as the burly half-giant tries to place the large Christmas tree out of the way against one of the walls. “A bit late to be decorating, isn’t it?”

“Hello Professor,” Hagrid booms as he releases the tree and turns to see Minerva. “We thought we’d add to the overall cheer if we did a few more trees than normal.” It’s explained with a shrug, as if it’s hardly worth mentioning that they would be adding, presumably, dozens of evergreens to fill various spots around the castle. Perhaps, she supposes, it is to Hagrid, who can easily manage the trees without assistance, and to Filius who merely directs and casts a few decorative charms. Though the charms required a numerous, it’s hardly anything too difficult for a Charms Master of his caliber. 

“I see,” she replies crisply, certain that there is almost nothing she can do about this now that there are already extra trees in the castle (and not sure that she would want to do anything about it, anyway). “Well, carry on then, gentlemen. But I’d perhaps keep an eye out for stray students heading down to dinner. It would be a shame to survive a war and be killed by Christmas decorating, don’t you think?”

Filius gives a nervous chuckle and Hagrid just stares at her. Quirking an eyebrow, she gestures at them to proceed and makes her way towards the Great Hall, leaving the pair to stare after her in confusion. She’s too tired, and too stressed, to worry about having a spot on sense of humor, and besides, it’s not as if people consistently find her funny. She knows her sense of humor is more acerbic and dry than most are accustomed to, and it takes a very rare moment, or a very rare person, for it to come across properly. Luckily for her, Hermione is one of those rare people, because it’s clear that neither of the men she’s left in the courtyard are quite up to her wit and if that’s indicative (and it is) of the world’s population as a whole she could have been in for a long lifetime of jokes that no one laughs at. She supposes that’s what it’s like to be whatever deity it was that decided Minerva needed to be Hermione’s Secret Santa.

///

“Do you know what you’re going to get your Secret Santa?” Hermione asks, voice pensive as she stares into the fire. Minerva has been paying more attention than normal to the younger woman and though her quill continues to move across the sheets of parchment in her lap, the Headmistress has noticed that her young lover is more than a little distracted. She hasn’t seen Hermione turn a page in nearly twenty minutes, and the large tome in her lap has mostly been ignored since the pair settled down on the couch.

“Honestly, I have no idea,” Minerva replies, forcing herself to keep writing the critique at the bottom of the essay in front of her, though she is now somehow extraordinarily nervous that somehow Hermione has discovered that Minerva is to be her Secret Santa. The quill digs into the parchment a little too hard as she makes a particularly violent flourish and she looks up at the brunette, hastily putting the quill aside and preparing to explain it away as a hand cramp. “Why do you ask? I thought you had everything all figured out for yours.” She tries very hard to make the words as casual as possible. 

“Something Ginny said earlier, I suppose,” Hermione mutters, still entranced by the flames and seemingly unable to look Minerva in the eye. The Professor doesn’t mind: she’s not especially keen on being watched closely for this conversation.

“Oh?”

“Sometimes you get a flash of what you look like to other people,” Hermione responds slowly. “Does that make sense?”

“It does.”

“I realized that I have no idea what I can expect from my Secret Santa. I realized that not a lot of people have gotten to know me beyond the very surface. Ginny thinks that your foul mouth is rubbing off on me,” she adds, seemingly changing the subject, gaze finally cutting from the fire to meet Minerva’s green eyes.

“Perhaps it is,” Minerva allows, having the grace to blush slightly even if she’s not entirely sorry about how exactly she’s been rubbing off on the younger woman. “Does that bother you?”

“Hardly,” Hermione dismisses easily. “I don’t regret this, Minerva.”

Minerva finds herself suddenly fighting a tidal wave of counter-arguments. Not only has she been doing her best to convince herself that these arguments don’t exist, that she has the counter for each and every single one, and more importantly that she is happy with the outcome of the situation regardless of these arguments, but she gets the distinct feeling that none of them should be voiced at this particular moment. She knows that Hermione is just as aware as she is; the young Gryffindor is no slouch when it comes to reason and logic. There are few things that Minerva can count on in this situation, but she is lucky that Hermione’s good sense and intelligence is one of those things. Perhaps it’s not the wisest idea for them to be so willfully ignoring these things, but at least Minerva can rest easily knowing that the potential issues have at least been noted. 

“Nor do I,” she whispers instead. “Maybe in certain moments, perhaps, but even so I wouldn’t change this.”

“Certain moments?” Hermione looks suddenly vulnerable and Minerva hastens to reassure her.

“The things you do to me, Hermione, aren’t always convenient.” The wry twist to thin lips take the sting out of the previous words and Hermione looks suddenly relieved. “We are around each other almost constantly, darling, and there are just times where I would like—“

“Like what, Minerva?”

The prompt is gentle and Minerva answers without much reluctance, though she had not planned on completing the sentence, not wishing to pressure the younger woman. “There are times,” she begins again, “where I cannot kiss you and I want to.”  


“What about right now?” Hermione asks. “Is now one of those times?”

There’s a playful note to the question and Minerva tries to carry it through her own response. “It could be. You are awfully far away right now.”

“The other end of the couch,” Hermione points out with a chuckle that makes Minerva’s mouth go suddenly dry. She swallows hard.

“It’s very far,” she protests weakly, suddenly feeling as if it’s the farthest distance she’s ever come across. 

“Of course it is,” Hermione says, exaggerating the placating and soothing words to, quite clearly, tease Minerva just a little further.

“You don’t seem very sorry about being so far away,” Minerva points out, eyebrow arching. She’s not fooled in the least by Hermione’s mock sympathy.

“I’m so sorry Professor,” Hermione practically purrs, uncrossing her legs and shifting the book in her lap to a side table. “Is this better?” she asks, shifting to the middle of the couch.

“Hardly, and you know it,” Minerva retorts, dumping her papers to the floor with little ceremony and closing the remaining distance. Hermione’s breath hitches as Minerva’s arms close around her gently, and for all of the frustrated passion Minerva had been displaying she’s astonishingly tender as she places a soft kiss to the corner of the brunette’s mouth. “I think you’ll find, Hermione, that your Secret Santa may know more about you than you’d expect,” she says, drawing back slightly to peer at the other woman over square-rimmed spectacles. She doesn’t release her, though. “You might be more complex than most of your peers,” Minerva continues, “but it’s nearly impossible to not want to get to know someone as amazing as you are.” Hermione looks like she’s about to protest, but Minerva continues on, silencing any protest before it can be uttered. “Perhaps not always, but I know the world has seen a glimpse of who you are, beyond first impressions. I can’t imagine anyone who could see that and not want to make you happy.”

“You’re sweet,” Hermione finally allows, after the words have had a few moments to sink in. Her tone switches to flirtation in an instant, “How far are you willing to go to make me happy, Professor McGonagall?”

“To the middle of the couch and back?” Minerva quips, pulling the girl in her arms closer to press a series of kisses from jawbone to collarbone, inhaling the vanilla scent of Hermione's shampoo that Minerva associates solely with moments like this. 

“How about to the middle of your bed and back?” Hermione proposes, tone serious but eyes dark with intent. 

“That is so much farther,” she agrees, sliding a hand to rest on Hermione’s thigh, fingers restlessly tracing an aimless pattern across the denim that Hermione favors outside of classes. “But for you, I think I can manage to make it that far.”

“Good,” Hermione gasps out, stilling Minerva’s hands by placing her own atop dancing fingers. “Now stop teasing and take me to bed, witch.”

“And back,” Minerva promises, rising to her feet and pulling Hermione with her.


End file.
